A/N: This is a fic about one of the lesser-known digimon Gargoylemon. I’ve always been fascinated with the concept of Gargoylemon, he’s a vaccine (virus in the original) digimon who kind of resembles an angel and yet he is considered a fallen angel. This fic takes place before season one and is just a Gargoylemon retelling his life up to a certain point. There is some blood and angst but nothing too bad. It turned out much longer then I had expected it to. Originally I wanted it to be about 3000 words, but for some reason I can’t write anything that short.

Disclaimer: I do not own digimon.

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The Garden of Stone: A Gargoylemon’s Story

“Go back to the void you vile creature!”

The sound of my opponent’s malicious curse still echoes in my mind. My gaze is fixed upon the crater in the ground. My opponent had been standing there only moments ago. Some simple Meramon had the stupidity to challenge me and now he was dead. It was his fault. He should have minded his own business. I wonder if stopping me was truly worth his life. I suppose I can’t dwell on it. If muse to long on any of my deceased opponents then I would quickly go insane. Still his final words have forced me to look back upon my life and consider what lead me this habit of seek and destroy.

“You are a curse unto the light… an abomination unto the vaccine!”

Abomination, what an appropriate title. Detestable, unclean, tainted, these were all labels given to me in my many years. I even bore them in my youth, when I still dwelt amongst the creatures of light and beauty.

I was born to them. I was born a vaccine digimon simple, innocent, and pure. I was a Veemon, a happy, harmless little digimon. Others enjoyed my company. Many sought to have me around. I had friends, many friends, all whom loved me. In my innocence, or my ignorance, however you wish to put it, I believed that this life I was born into would remain as it was forever. I believed that Elecmon would care for the rest of the yearlings and me until the last sunrise of the Digital World. I believed that I would always be welcomed among the creatures of light, my fellow vaccine digimon and our brothers the data digimon. Oh how I was deceived.

Beauty is an illusion which time quickly robs from you. Hope is legerdemain breaded into the young and the innocent. Faith only brings fear for the pain that it may cost. The infamous promise to the yearlings, that they might become who they wish to be and live with pride in who and what they are, warms them until they dry up and blow away like dust upon the wind. It is nothing but a lie fed to you when you are young. It is fed to you until you choke on it. I have long since seen through the grand deception. I have long since grown weary of this deathless world and its false promises.

Perhaps you are wondering what happened to me? Well, as I said, I was born into this. Just as all other digimon are born, I came into this world as a digi-egg. A bright blue egg with red dots splattered upon it. It occurs to me now that those red dots have a far more significant purpose than mere decoration. They were an omen; a warning to all that blood would be spilt where ever I walked. Of course none realized that then. None had the mercy to put me out of my misery before it began. I was just another pretty little digi-egg resting peacefully under the digital sun.

Time passes quickly when you are an egg, and sooner then expected I began to grow conscious. I was soon aware of my closed surroundings and fear instantly flooded into me. This was my downfall. Baby digimon are not supposed to know fear. But I was afraid. I felt as though I could not breathe. I had to escape this prison. I needed to get out, to know fresh air and movement. And so I struggled within my confines. I fought against the walls around me and hours later my struggle paid off. The digi-egg cracked and then vanished in a puff of reconfigured data. At last I was free.

I came into the world on a cold early winter night. I could not even begin to describe the sensations I felt once the data of the digi-egg cleared away. I could feel the cold wind hitting my skin, it was the digital world’s breath panting upon me. I could hear the leaves and the various toys, which were stringed to the tree branches, rattling against one another as the wind tossed them about. I could hear my own breathing. I could feel the air enter my mouth and run into my lungs. It was all so overwhelming, and yet I could not get enough of it.

My sense of taste and smell came quickly after touch and hearing. These senses created my earliest memories. Before it was all confusion, I know now what I felt within the digi-egg, but how could one’s mind record such things without having senses to measure and understand them.

Now I was fully awake and fully aware. The world seemed to move and breathe around me, and my fascination with these new and glorious things were in no way measurable. I was captivated by what my senses revealed to me. Truly living would be an amazing experience. I could see no reason why it wouldn’t be with such wonders to explore.

Despite my enthusiasm, nothing compared to my final entry into the world. This entry came in the form of my final sense, vision. At first all I could see was darkness, and I found comfort in this darkness. Darkness was familiar and safe; however, it was not long until this darkness slowly turned to distinguishable shadows. I was lying on my back, though the difference between lying on my back and standing were hardly noticeable, when the curtain of darkness at last pulled back and my eyes focused on the world above me.

There was no moment of blurred shapes and colors; there simply was no sight and then sight. At the time I had no idea how greatly my first vision would effect the rest of my life, all I knew was the black velvet sky sprinkled with sparkling diamonds. The night sky was clean and clear, not a single cloud obscured my view of it. The moon had waxed and waned until it was nothing. It was a moonless night, my favorite kind of night. I gazed upon the spender of the stars; the silver flames were like the most beautiful of gems gleaming in the blackened heavens. At that moment I knew that I could love no other sight better then the glories of the black sky and twinkling stars.

Time past slowly after my birth, and yet these moments of innocence were over far too quickly. Eventually the sun rose and my caretaker, Elecmon, explained to me that the sun was our friend. The sun lit our way so we would not be forced to stumble blindly through darkness. But I had not been blind before the sun rose, and as its golden rays touched my flesh I found myself cursing the orb for taking away the beauty of the stars. Still, even in my youth, I learned quickly, and it was not long before I grasped the process, which dominates the heavens and the digiworld. The sun would rise the sun would set, the moon would rise the moon would set, and for a while I was content with this system.

Eventually I grew accustom to the way the word worked, and it was not long before some of the other yearlings and myself digivolved into our in-training forms. There really wasn’t much to celebrate in my opinion. So we were a little bigger, really did it matter? Of course the others seemed to think so. They laughed and celebrated this change while I attempted to grow use to it.

The sun rose and set seven times before Elecmon came to the in-training digimon and explained that it was time for us to make our way into the world. We were all equal at the time; not a one of us held more value then the other, and so none of us were permitted to stay. Under the watchful eye of the summer sun we journeyed away from our caretaker and the place of our birth.

For sometime we simply traveled around File Island, seeking nothing, simply enjoying the new adventures around us. Of course just as soon as I began to grow continent with this life, much as I had with my life at Primary Village, everything once again changed. Digimon began to digivolve into their rookie forms. The first one changed into a Tentomon. The next one became a Terrirermon. After that another changed into a Chuumon . Then it became my turn.

I can’t explain what it feels like to digivolve. Ultimately the feeling varies depending on circumstances. Digimon don’t get growing pains, we don’t get hormonal, and there is no gradual growth from one thing to another. Digivolveing is a quick, shocking change. Everything from your size to your personality can completely alter at this moment. Most digimon forget completely about their past and their previous form once they digivolve into the next. I suppose that is a process of survival. After all, how could a vampire digimon survive if he remembers being an innocent little Tanemon? He simply could not, he would be too hesitant to feed and live.

I envy digimon who were fortunate enough to loose themselves when digivolveing, I unfortunately was never given that gift. I remember everything from the time of my awaking until this very moment. When I digivolved from in-training to rookie, nothing really changed. Everything I was before transferred over to my new form. Energy pulsed through me. I felt my data break apart, disassembling me. Then I felt my data rework, adding in new attributes until it recollected and I became whole once more. I was a rookie now, my entire physical appearance had altered, but it was not until later that I realized how little I had changed.

In time all the other in-training digimon digivolved as well. Now we were a misfit group of various vaccine, data, and virus type digimon. For a while things seemed to remain the same. We were all friends, happily playing with each other. I was a go-lucky little Veemon, whom everyone loved. Truly these were some of the happiest days of my life, however, I know now that such bliss is not mean to last.

Soon I found that just as my companions' bodies had changed, so had their personalities. It was not long before quarrels began to irrupt within our group. Vaccine digimon would begin to make fun of the vulgarity of the virus type digimon, and the virus types would begin to make fun of the simple-mindedness of the data type. Soon arguments between the three types became a regular event. Usually the data types and vaccine types would team up against the virus types, however, there were times when all three types stood at odds with one another.

I wish I could say that I was immune to these heated arguments, but I was not. I still clung to that part of myself which loved life and everything in it, however, I was very young, a child if you will, and in the interest of being popular among my own kind, the vaccine, I began to join the arguments. Occasionally there were moments of peace, but this only meant that when an argument would arise it would be far more heated then before. It was not long before these arguments turned into fights. It was at this time that I realized how much I hated growing up. Growing up meant you had to make your own choices. Growing up meant you had to decided where you stood and what you believed in. I could no longer hide behind my innocence, I had to decided who I was and what I intended to fight for in my life. Naturally I did not agree with any side, their emotions led them to poor decisions, but I would never express my disapproval. If I went against all of them then I’d be alone. I’d be shunned even by my own kind. So I remained silent and took the side of the vaccine.

Shortly after everyone had chosen a side we went our separate ways. Truly ignorance is bliss. When we were younger we had no idea there were differences between us, but now we were older, more experienced, wiser in the ways of the world. Now we knew that we were not all the same, and this insignificant fact drove us apart. I think this is why Elecmon had us leave so quickly. He knew that eventually we’d grow to take our places in the circles of the digital world. He simply did not want us to taint the new yearlings with these “grown up” ideals. After all, did they not deserve to experience the same happiness that we did during our time of ignorance?

Once sides had been taken and everyone knew their place we broke apart. Each group went its own way. I was a favorite among my fellow vaccine; my clever insults towards the virus types had instantly made me popular. The time I spent with my brothers was simply put, fun. We went on adventures and got into trouble, and eventually we found a place on the western shore of File Island to settle down in. A village was already there, it had been built and was currently being occupied by other vaccine digimon. These digimon welcomed us warming, and we were pleased to call this place home.

As time past we came to learn that there was a village of data digimon in the forest near the coast. We were good friends with these data types, and we even came to learn that some of the data types from our own group had settled there while the rest had settled in a town near the center of the island. We never heard from the viruses in our group again. Some said they were attacked and destroyed by a group of righteous Centarumon, others say they settled among the Bakemon in the southern part of the island. Which is true? I really don’t know, and to be honest I don’t care to.

The village was mostly occupied by champion digimon, however, there were a few rookie and ultimate digimon around. We, the yearlings, instantly became students to these elder digimon. They poured their knowledge and experiences upon use like gardeners pour water upon seedlings. The most freely given teachings were those against the most hated digimon of all, demon types. We learned that not all virus types were considered evil by our brothers, but the demons and fallen angels were abhorrence. They were hated by all, even by their fellow viruses. Needless to say my brothers, in their desire for sanctity, despised them most of all.

As I listened to the many tells past down from one good digimon to another, I began to realize just how deep these feelings were towards the demons and fallen angels. Never had I heard my teachers speak with such conviction as they did when speaking against these evil creatures. The other yearlings listened closely to these teachings, they soaked the knowledge up and like seeds they began to sprout. They grew into the model of our teachers, until at last they budded and bloomed.

I wish I could say that I was as enthusiastic about sprouting into an image worthy of my teachers, but I was not. I found myself confused by my teachers, at one moment they spoke of love and brotherhood to all digimon, and in the next they preached of the weed, which is the demon digimon, and how it should be violently ripped from the garden of life. As time past a great resentment began to build within me. I simply could not conform to my teachers’ ideals. I was a stone-buried deep underground, unable to drink the water given to me, unable to sprout and grow. If someone had simply pulled me aside and explained to me that most demons destroy mercilessly, and that they are the shadow, which shrouds our world, then perhaps I would have been more eager to conform, but no one made such an effort.

As time passed so did my confusion and resentment grow. Already I longed for simpler days, days when I could not grasp the ideals of good and evil, days when segregation was unheard of, however, such desires were utterly useless. The only way to go back to the beginning is to meet your end. I certainly didn’t want to start over. Grant it I would have my innocence back for a time, but that only meant that I would be forced to relive growth again. I certainly did not want that.

Time past and once more the cycles of this world came to visit my group. The yearlings began to digivolve. Some grew into various vaccine types, others became data types, and even a few digivolved into virus types. As they digivolved they began to leave, each deciding their own destiny. Some went to the other villages and towns on File Island, while other took to the sea, seeking new lands and new brothers. The power to grow and change seemed contagious for it was not long before I too was graced by its presence.

The first digivolutions had been a wonderful and joyful experience, but unfortunately this time I was not so lucky. I had been sitting on the beach near my village. It was another moonless night and all of my brothers were resting. Vaccine digimon generally prefer the day to the night, I suppose I was an exception even then, for I loved the starlight and even the moon held some greatness to me. My crimson eyes sparkled with love for the beauty above me while my snout curved into a goofy grin. Veemon were naturally happy creatures, and despite my occasional resentment, I was still relatively optimistic and gleeful. I sat silently admiring the stars, half-wishing I could fly so that I could be a little closer to them. Naturally I was not expecting what was about to happen. Most digimon digivolve after a really good meal or during a battle, so I was not expecting these sensation to wash over me when they did.

I can not fully put into words what it felt like this time. To be honest it was painful. First the sound of the waves slowly died, then the wind no longer whistled in my ears. The melodies of the night were replaced by the pounding of my pulse in my head. It was like war drums beating inside my mind. Soon my body heat began to rise until I felt like a fire was burning underneath my scales. The starlight began to grow and merge until it was all one big, bright blur. I found myself clutching my head in pain while my tail beat upon the sand. It was not long before the energy inside me grew to be too much and my own small frame could not support it. In order to confiscate for the larger amounts of energy, my body began to reform. My bones painful reshaped, causing my scales to split in many places. My limbs stretched, and I felt like my entire body we being pulled apart. Soon my scaled began to reconfigure to meet the demands of my growing bones. My muscles expand, and I felt myself trembling in pain from the experience.

Though it seemed an eternity, I know it only took a few seconds for these changes to occur. Despite the agony of my body’s growth, it was not until sharp pains began to torment my back that I let out a cry. It felt as though my shoulder blades were cutting through my skin. I felt my new flesh rip apart in two different places. Crimson began to slide down my back and arms. I glanced over at my right arm to see red soak into white feathers. As more blood seeped from my back I began to feel bones pushing their way out. These bones grew, forcing my trembling body to the ground. I clutched my face in pain as teardrops mingled with crimson. I felt every inch of growth as these new limbs took shape. I felt the stinging pain, as the bare bones, now free from their confines beneath my flesh, grew skin and then feathers. Soon the blood stopped flowing from my back and the process was over. I shuddered then fully collapsed on the sand, then darkness took me and I was asleep.

I awoke the next night only to find myself in one my neighbor’s huts. It was a Piximon; he lived close to the shore and had heard my cries during my digivolution. Apparently he had brought me in and cleaned me up, leaving me to regain my strength during the day. Now that I was awake he looked at me; sympathy glistened in his kind eyes as I asked him what had happened. He did not say a word; instead he pointed to an iron boll of water, which was lying near me. I forced myself to rise from my resting-place, finding to my surprise, and relief, that all pain from the night before had vanished. Slowly I crawled to the bowl and curiously looked into the water. What I saw astounded me. I had grown so accustom to finding a cheerful blue face with bright crimson eyes staring back at me that, when I looked in, this new sight startled me.

No longer did a cheerful, innocent face stare back at me, instead I saw white feathers and silver straps. My eyes were concealed by silver straps and yet I could see perfectly, even better then before. My ears were no longer hidden below blue horns, but now they were white feathers, resembling a cherub’s wings. The only blue remaining on my body were long dark blue talons on both my hands and feet and a long blue tail, which stretched out behind me. Silver straps covered my white feathers in many places, but on both of my forearms was a symbol. On the right was a golden O, and on the left was a golden X. I knew well what these symbols meant in our world, and their appearance fully disturbed me. O and X, light and darkness. Why did I wear both? I did not understand. Truly I must belong to the light? I resembled an angel, white wings were upon my back and I was clad in shinning silver and gold, so what place did darkness have upon me?

It was not long before I found out the answers to these questions, for Piximon explained to me that I was now a Gargoylemon. In the way of attributes I remained the same, I was still a vaccine digimon, however, in the way of classifications I had greatly changed. No longer was I a holy beast digimon, I was now the opposite. I had become a fallen angel. I was the anathema, a source of hatred for all my brothers, and this frightened me.

Piximon urged me to go before the others a plead for the right to remain in the village despite my status, after all, I was still a vaccine, therefore what basis would they have to drive me out of my home? I was grateful to find the majority of my village agreed upon me staying. Some did resent the idea of having a demon among them, however, our village was a democracy, and so their voices were not counted above the majority.

I realized that it would be difficult, however, I was determined to earn and keep my brothers’ respect and trust. I thought that I could pretend that nothing had changed, but the dawn proved me wrong. After I was permitted to stay in my home, I went to the beach, to the place of my digivolution, and spent the night speaking with Piximon. We spoke of how I could use my new abilities to contribute to my village, and for a moment it seemed as though things would go on as they always had. I sat under the starlight and the new moon, loving the feeling of the cold and the darkness. I was at peace under the night sky; however, my peace was soon interrupted. I found myself getting tired and agitated, soon the first light of dawn appeared upon the horizon and the very sight of it disgusted me. My hands gripped into fist and I began snapping at everything Piximon would say. As the sun continued to rise I found myself in pain; the light seemed to burn my skin and eyes. I felt hot and closed in. It seemed like I was suffocating under the heat of the sun.

I only barely recall Piximon’s concerned voice, asking me what was wrong. All that I was aware of was the light and the pain it caused me. I had to escape it. I had to protect myself form this torment, but I did not know how. Finally the pain and the irritation grew to be too much, and I allowed instinct to take over. Without thinking, without effort, I felt my body changed. A stone shell emerged from within me and encased my body. The pain vanished, the irritation was gone, and I found myself at peace once more. Once my body was fully encased I slept, remembering no more of that day.

It was not until the sun had slowly fallen into the void that I awoke. As the sun sunk into the darkness in the west, so did the stone upon my body sink back under my flesh, remaining dormit in the night. When I had fully awoken I found myself at peace once more. The black heavens blanketed me in darkness and the new moon and bright stars shone down upon me, welcoming me back to the nocturnal world.

I later learned that this was to be the way of my life. That sunlight would instantly trigger this change, and that exposure to it would turn me to stone. To my surprise the others were very tolerant of these new habits. They even appointed me as the night guard for the village. This seemed fitting, since I alone preferred the nocturnal life. For a while I was content, my brothers tolerated what I had become, and even I learned to live with the changes.

I should have known that such contentment would not last. It did not take long before another of my instincts began to surface; it was the desire to travel. I found myself often neglecting my post as the night watchmon so that I might stretch my wings a bit. I flew all around File Island. I needed no company, no companion to converse with. I spoke with the wind. I traveled with the clouds. This was my life for a time, and I loved it, but I caused my own downfall. I damned myself by neglecting my post on a night when my brothers truly needed watching.

It was early in the fall and the wind and fiery moon spoke to me. I was unsettled and the desire to fly was overwhelming. Finally I gave into my urges and took to the sky, leaving my slumbering brothers vulnerable in their homes.

I went about the island for a couple of hours, and then decided to return. As I neared the village I heard cries of terror and pain ringing into the night. It was the crises of my brothers, they were in trouble. I flew as swiftly as my wings would allow. Soon I was home, but the sight I was greeted with made me wish that I had never returned at all.

Huts were demolished, and beaten bodies were lying upon the beach like fallen birds. Suddenly anger rose within me as I looked upon my brothers’ battered forms. Without thinking, I flew to the shore in search of the cause of these evils. When I neared the sea I stopped. I looked into the black water and saw white tentacles floating on the surface. I knew not what digimon this was, only that he had destroyed my home and murdered my brothers.

With authority in my voice I called out to the creature. “Arise from the depths you wicked beast, come answer for your sins upon the innocent!”

At first nothing changed, all I could see was black waters and white tentacles, so I tried again. “I said arise! Face me you coward!” I challenged with malice in my voice.

This time my challenge was received, and the waves split apart as my opponent rose from the depths of the sea.

I tried to suppress a gasp of alarm as I looked upon my enemy, but I am certain that my shock was evident. There before me was a creature large and terrible to behold. He was a blue sea beast, MarineDevimon, the demon of the ocean. White and black tentacles sprouted from him. His eyes were red and bloodthirsty. He was the largest digimon that I had ever seen, and I found myself frightened before him. Still I remained strong. I cloaked my fear in anger.

With a loud cry I sent out my attack, Black Statue. The dark energy hit the sea demon directly in the chest, but the attack broke upon him like rain drops on stone. He was completely unaffected.

I expected that I would soon join my brothers in the valley of the dead, as it was obvious that I was no match for this terrible demon. I expected an attack to come soon, but to my surprise the demon merely laughed. It was not a mocking laugh, but simply an amused laugh, like a big brother laughing at his younger sibling’s attempting to do something better then him. This only angered me further.

“Why do you laugh?” I questioned in rage, “Destroy me or leave!”

The laughter grew hardier as I made my demands. “I will not destroy you, little one.” MarineDevimon sneered.

“Why not? You destroyed the others.” I questioned, finding it odd that I was conversing with such a hideous beast.

“There is not enough of our kind as it is, so why would I destroy you, my brother.”

I was taken aback by his response. “How dare you call me brother! I am nothing like you!” I argued, my body trembling with rage.

The sea demon huffed at this, then responded, “Continue to lie to yourself, little one. Soon you will grow so sick of these vaccines that you will come even to hate yourself. As long as you remain among the light you will always be in want. Stay here and sicken like a bird in a cage, but I will not lay hands on you, my brother.” With these words the demon sunk into the water, until even his tentacles vanished under the waves.

I never saw that MarineDevimon again, but his words would remain with me forever.

I felt nauseated as I flew back to my village. I landed upon the bloodstained ground, tears of anger and pain slipping from my concealed eyes. I walked among the corpses, shuddering at the sight of them. Many of the bodies began to reconfigure around me, I felt their data linger in the air like the betrayed souls were still clinging to their homes. Soon they let go and left this world for a time, leaving only their spilt blood as a reminder of their past existence.

I stumbled about the bodies, looking at each lifeless face until at last I came to the one I sought. Piximon, our unspoken leader. The little pink digimon lay pushed into the sand with one wing broken and twisted behind him. His staff had been reduced to splinters and the tiny pieces of wood were scattered upon the sand.

“Piximon?” I questioned, my voice trembling with sorrow.

Slowly I kneeled down beside the little digimon who had shown me so much compassion over the years.

The Piximon coughed and slowly opened his eyes at the sound of my voice. With effort he focused his gaze upon me. Relief shone brightly in those soft brown orbs once he realized who I was.

“I… I thought you were… dea…d” he breathed out, his voice choked with pain.

My tears fell more freely as I gently lifted my dying mentor into my long arms.

“No Piximon… I am alive… I’m going to help you.” I sobbed out. My guilt was unmeasurable. Piximon thought that MarineDevimon had destroyed me first and then came after the village, now he would die knowing that his faith in me was ill put.

His eyes hardened once his exhausted mind began to go over the possibilities of me surviving. “We are both… beyond… sal…vation now.”

My blood ran cold at these words, and I found what little goodness remained in me died that night. Piximon took a few more shuddering breaths before his eyes rolled in the back of his head and life left him.

I held on to his body tightly. Tears flooded my vision, and I found myself crying into the night, begging for whatever forces that govern the digital world to take me instead, but my pleas fell upon deaf ears. I rocked back and forth as I clutched my mentors broken body. I guess a part of me felt that if I continued to hold on to him, I might would be able to hold on to a piece of who I once was. But this was not the case. It was not long before I felt his body reconfigure in my arms. The digital wind then swooped down and carried the fragments of data way, taking whatever ounce of light that remained in me with it.

I was left hallow, empty, lifeless, but I was not forced to suffer long, for soon the sun rose and I went to sleep among the wreckage of my home.

I’m not entirely certain how long I slept for, I only know that I had willed myself to rest for longer then a year. To be honest, I was not expecting to awake again at all, but I did. Eventually the stone pulled back into my flesh and I could sleep no longer. When my eyes at last focused I half expected to find myself still clutching Piximon in my arms, with my ruined village around me, but it was immediately obvious that this was not the case.

I could not longer hear the waves or the wind. I could see no traces of light, and I could feel nothing but hot, sticky darkness. At first I thought that I had gone blind, but I soon realized that my eyes were functioning perfectly. My nocturnal gifts returned to me, and even in the darkest of darkness, I could still see. It was not until my eyes made out their shape that I realized I was chained. Shackles were latched to my arms and were chained to the walls in my cell. My ankles too were shackled, only their chains ran into the floor. I was in a small, reeking cell with three stone walls and iron bars across from me. I realized quickly that I was in an underground prison of some sort. This would explain the heat and the stuffiness.

I hated being underground. I hated being confined. I had always been claustrophobic and my tight surroundings were causing me more fear then I care to admit. Summoning what little strength I had, I pulled against my restraints. I tried desperately to free myself, however, my efforts were in vain, and I soon gave up. I remained undisturbed in my cell for many days, and the solitude slowly began to drive me mad.

To pass the time I began going over the greater details of my life. I found myself retracing every step of my journey. I picked through my flaws and laid them before myself while I forcefully lectured myself on my own uselessness. I had been nothing but a plague to my brothers. I had caused the deaths of many. Blood stained the road behind me, while shadows shrouded the road before me. Truly my life would be one unhappy event after another. I am very lucky that I do not require food and drink as most digimon do. My body feeds off of the elements around it. The darkness sustained my life while slowly consuming my mind.

It was not long before I began to think that my solitude would last forever. I feared that I would be eternally imprisoned with nothing but my own self loathing as company, but my fears were soon demolished as the sound of squeaking and clanking reached my ears. Suddenly dim light illuminated my cell, and I looked up to find three digimon glaring coldly at me.

“So the filth is finally awake.”

I heard a voice comment in disgust.

“I’ll fetch Leomon.”

Another voice announced before its owner turned and marched out of my line of vision.

The two remaining digimon began speaking amongst one another, I paid little attention to their words; to be honest I found myself unable to focus on anything for long. Soon their conversation became mild buzzing in the back of my head. It seemed that the more I’d will myself to embrace the world around me, the more my guilt would pull me deeper into my troubled mind. I felt that I was reliving my memories anew.

The sound of an iron door clanging in the back ground instantly awoke me from my daze.

“The creature’s awake huh?”

I heard a gruff voice speak, silencing the buzzing of the other two voices.

The digimon who had spoke was Leomon, a wise and powerful leader of our neighboring data type village.

I looked on curiously as the lion gave me a look of pure hatred. This look was soon followed by unforgivable charges. I understood at last what had happened. The data digimon had discovered our misfortunes. They must have found me turned to stone, the only living survivor, and assumed that I was partially responsible for the attack.

I did not realize that my cell door had been open and that both Leomon and another data digimon had entered until the lion roughly grabbed my chin and jerked my head up.

I found myself quivering under the intense gaze of this noble digimon. He looked at me accusingly. His eyes laid charges of murder and betrayal upon me, and I could find no words to argue. I wanted to explain what had happened, to beg for forgiveness, but I could not. My words had been buried deep within me, and I did not have the strength of will to dig them up again.

The longer I remained silent the more angry Leomon became. I suppose he expected some sort of an explanation, but really would any testament by me truly be counted as valid. Already they viewed me as a traitor, no amount of arguing would persuade them otherwise.

When Leomon finally realized that I would not answer he released his hold on my chin, allowing my head to drop back down. A low growl escaped his throat and was followed by the sound of leather snapping against rock. At this sound I looked up. My body trembled slightly from the fear pulsing through it, but my captor paid no mind to this.

Without knowing what else to do I shut my eyes tightly, bracing myself for the strike. The leather struck my flesh splitting the skin on my right shoulder and part of my right wing. I winced as the sound of a second snap echoed in my head. The sting of the whip was more painful then anything I had felt before.

Leomon watched as his companion continued to ruthlessly bring the brown leather whip over my back and wings. The lion seemed displaced, as though he was willing himself to suppress all memories of this event. I’m sure a part of him had hoped that I would speak. I think he believed that he could whip some sense into me and I would defend myself against the charges which put me here. If he only realized that there was no point in me arguing, whether deliberate or accidental, I am still responsible for the deaths of my brothers.

They had trusted me despite my crude classification, and I let them down. If I had been there then I could have warned them of the coming danger. There were many powerful digimon in our village, and there is no doubt in my mind that the tragedy could have been avoided if they had only had a proper warning. But instead of having their night guard awake them, leading them to a defense, their only warning was the sounds of their neighbors’ horrified screams. I betrayed them, I caused their deaths, and so I deserved this punishment.

Soon my white feathers were dripping in my blood. Crimson flowed like tiny streams in the cracks on the stone floor, and even the walls and cell bars were splattered in blood. My body grew weak from the loss of blood and I found myself slipping out of consciousness. I did not turn to stone, I had neither the sunlight nor the strength to trigger this defense, instead I hung from my chains bloody and beaten.

My captor left my cell and did not return for a week. This break gave my body an opportunity to recover before the next beating. This method of waiting until I was well again to beat me nearly to death was understandable, I didn’t require food, or water.

For years this went on. I would be left alone, buried alive in the hot darkness until my strength had returned, then two or more data digimon would journey below ground, question me, and then whip me when I gave no response. Eventually the questions stopped, however, the beatings continue. It got to the point where I began to wonder if these digimon even knew why I was down there, though I’m certain they wouldn’t care. I was good sport so what else matter?

It was in these years that I loss myself. Agreeing with my punishment and supporting my captors was no way to survive. Eventually the instincts, which had remained dormit within me, surfaced. I began to hate my captors. I too began to forget the reason behind my imprisonment. Unlike most digimon, I never truly lost my memories, only the feelings that came with them. I no longer felt remorse for my brothers who had died on the beach. I no longer cared about the separation from the rest of the yearlings. Everything seemed obsolete, I felt nothing but cold hatred.

Perhaps it was this growing hatred which called out to him, or perhaps he was not seeking me at all, and him finding me was purely accidental. Either way, it did not matter. In my rage I desperately desired salvation and was more then willing to accept the Black Hand offered to me.

You see, while I had been trapped underground, cut off from the world, a change came upon File Island. Darkness shrouded the entire island in fear. Mischief arose in the form of black gears, and my brothers above were targeted by a growing empire.

I knew not of the commotion above. I knew not that the village of data digimon was being pillaged and burned. To me the day seemed normal. My wounds were healing and it was near, if not already, time for a visit from my captors. As I expected, I heard the clanging of an iron door followed by the sound of heavy footsteps.

I found myself so accustom to this practice that I did not even bother to look up and see the lucky digimon who would have some fun with me today.

“How interesting.”

The voice was smooth and dark, it had an enticing tone, which lured me to lift up my head and look into its owner’s eyes. To my surprise it was not some snotty data digimon that entered my gaze, but a black creature with a halo of evil about him. I stared into this creature’s eyes, eyes as red as the blood which spills often from my back and wings.

The very sight of those eyes filled me with terror. I had only encountered one other evil digimon in my life, and that had been MarineDevimon. I wish I could say that that encountered had little effect on me, but to do so would be a lie. I still shudder with fear at the very memory of that huge sea beast.

“I never thought I’d see the day when the creatures of light would abuse one of their own. Tell me, little one, what did you do that was so horrible? Did you step on a pretty little daisy perhaps?”

The demon mocked me cruelly and I felt rage boil within me. I will not deny that I feared this creature, but had I not been through enough? I was being punished for the deaths of many, so should I not receiving the respect that another killer would give to a sinner such as I?

“I…”

I whispered, marveling that I could still speak at all.

“I betrayed my village…”

I began softly, my voice seemed to have forgotten how to work properly and simply saying this much took a great deal of effort.

The demon smiled, the same elder to youth smile, which MarineDevimon had used so long ago.

“Oh really little one? Tell me how did you manage that?”

He was still mocking me, but in a gentle way. I would have rather him have treated me cruelly like the others then to show me such patients, but I suppose he never intended to kill me.

“I handed their lives to a sea demon.”

I explained weakly, my voice never fully recovered from those years underground, and it is still soft and weak.

“I see.”

The demon responded more to himself then to me.

“Tell me, do you regret what you did?”

The question startled me. I was not expecting it, and even if I had I am not certain I could have prepared for it. Did I regret the deaths of my friends? Was I still dwelling on my past and my guilt? Could I even feel a feeling such as remorse anymore?

“No,”

I found the word rolled from my mouth far easier then any other words have since.

“No I do not regret it.”

I was finally able to say it out loud, and so it was written in stone. I did not regret what happened. I no longer cared that my brothers were killed. I no longer hated MarineDevimon for sparing me when he showed no mercy to the others. Truly this was the end of my old life. I fully sold my soul, and I felt no remorse for its loss.

Seconds later my cell door was violently pulled from its hinges and carelessly tossed to the side. Next my chains were loosened and I crumbled to the ground, unable to support myself without their aid.

“And so you should not regret it,”

The voice of the demon rained down from directly above me, and I willed myself to look up.

“The weak will always perish, but the strong will long endure. In time you will be strong once more, little one.”

A clawed hand was extended to me and I trembled as I looked deep into those red eyes. Doubt swarmed my mind. For so long I had lived in this tomb, could I truly find a place in the outside world once more? Was there even a place for me? This was like being born again. I awake from the void and enter the land of the living once more. I wasn’t sure if this was what I wanted. I didn’t really want to be evil, but was there even any goodness left within me?

Finally I realized that it did not matter. I was not good, but I was not evil. The forces of the digital world chose to leave me a wander in the nether world, never able to decided if I an alive or dead.

And so I took his hand. He grasped my hand and hoisted my broken body up, lending me strength so that I could stand. He led me out of this tomb, my prison and home for so long, and into the world above. I past out of the exit and came into a moonless night. Shadows stretched above me, a ruin village lay around me, and the stars shone down upon me.

Just as my first entry into this world was under a black velvet sky and twinkling stars, so was my second entry the same. I came under Devimon’s services and found my place among the darkness.

What is to become of me now? I do not know. I sleep during the day and carry out my master’s orders at night. I suppose my life will carry on in this fashion until I grow comfortable with it, then all will change and I will be forced to adapt again. Perhaps the coming of these Chosen Children will bring about that change. One never knows does he?

~*~*~

I know the ending is a little strange, but I basically wanted to say that his life is not over. One of the ideas I was trying to get across was how it always seems like once we finally grow content with our lives, something changes and we are forced to adapt for these changes. I also wanted to show how out of place Gargoylemon was.

When MarineDevimon and Devimon refer to Gargoylemon as “little one” it doesn’t mean he’s small, it’s suppose to mean that he is young and inexperienced. And as far as Gargoylemon not needing food or water, that was just sort of a random idea. Also I’m not sure if Gargoylemon’s really turn into stone, that’s just an idea I had and liked. Devidramon turns to stone in season one so I figured how much more fitting would it be if a gargoyle type turned to stone. Plus Gargoylemon’s attacks are “Black Statue” and “White Statue” so it seemed to fit.

I really enjoyed writing this so I might do more, I’m not really sure yet, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see.